R_S: Sooo the very first thing I want to address is that I started this story before I read Tasting the Stars by toomuchchampagne. It's a phenomenal story, which you should totally check out, and another DylanxEmma fic with the same basic premise. It's wonderful but goes in a very different direction than this one. I just felt very silly and unoriginal when I came across it, so I wanted to point out my ridiculousness right off the bat. And apologize for the ridiculous title; I couldn't come up with anything better.

Anyway, I have this story about half written. Given the intense rain that's keeping me in today, I decided what the hell- I'll post early. There's not enough of this couple, and they'd be freaking adorable (especially since I really don't like Bradley, who won't be making an appearance in this). Let me know if you have any thoughts or ideas or if you just wanna gush; I'd love to hear any of it!

So, without further ado, here's the admittedly short first chapter (most of the chapters are going to be on the shorter side, but this is the shortest thus far). I hope you enjoy!

The Lies We Breathe

Chapter 1

A Father's Departing

She hated the rain. It made the air thick and harder to breathe and move through, and it was always. fucking. raining. in that damn town. Fuck, Oregon sucked. She would have thought that after living in England they'd have gone somewhere with a little sun, but no. They stayed with the rain. Or maybe the rain just followed them, like a darkness coating their lives. It rained at Ms. Watson's funeral, and now it was raining at her father's.

Emma let out a shaky breath. Norma clutched her arms around Norman, who sobbed at the loss of the old man, but she stood stoic, without comfort despite her father's passing. A handful of those who respected him in town had shown up, along with some of her more polite classmates, but it was a much smaller affair than the last one she had attended. And yet again she faded into the background. In a way it was nice, a reverie away from the pitying looks and feelings like she did not belong. But on a deeper level, she wanted to scream. Her father had left her, the only man in the world who ever saw her. The one she had spent so long wishing would see her easily ignored her anguish, instead wallowing in his own. For once, she was truly mad at the boy and not just hurt. Seriously, fuck him. Fuck Norman Bates. She once thought maybe he cared for her, but she was wrong. Not that it mattered; it was not as though she would ever see any of these people again anyway. Foster families were a great unknown, and somehow she did not think one would pop up in White Pine Bay.

A gentle, solid hand on her shoulder pulled the girl from her reverie. Emma looked over to see Dylan standing beside her, expression sympathetic. She had not realized he was there. She nodded but still did not cry, and he stared into her eyes for a long moment, as the holy man droned on in the background about love and ever after. He knew, she realized, he understood why she did not cry or kick or scream or pitch a fit. She did not want the spotlight; she just wanted to be seen. That would not achieve what she wanted. And anyway, she had not the breath for it.

She was invited forward to toss some dirt on her father's casket, and the dysfunctional family of three moved along with her, by her side. Annoyed though she was, she was glad for the support. Still, when Norman reached for her hand, she pretended not to notice. Rarely had she needed him, and now that she did, she found him emotionally out of reach. It was jarring and heartbreaking, and she felt guilty for thinking about a boy when her father's soul still had yet to be fully laid to rest. The funeral ended soon after, and the small group began to disperse, some leaving some parting condolences with the young brunette. She smiled and nodded along like a good little girl. Dylan stood keeping watch over her like a guard dog. She felt safe and ignored the way Norma stepped in to intercept the sheriff as he approached her to usher her back home.

As her sons and Emma turned away to bid farewell to funeral goers, Norma fixed Romero with fire in her sparkly blue eyes.

"Alex, what's this I'm hearing that Emma doesn't know where she's going now?" She demanded, "Where was the rest of her family today? I'd really like to know where she's off to." Romero sighed, already exhausted from how she started the conversation.

"I don't know the answer to that. No one's claiming her, so there's nowhere for her to go. She's being put in the system, so it's whoever can take in a sick kid."

The blond woman glared, "There's more to her than being sick, and she may be young, but I think you'll find she has an old soul. Claiming her, what the hell kind of term is that… she's not a pet. And what do you mean no family? Surely there's someone. Hell, I'll take her in if I have to." He disregarded most of her little rant.

"There's no getting in touch with her mother, Will doesn't have any family left back in England… There's nowhere else for her to go, Norma, and after everything that's happened since you moved here, they won't deem you an acceptable role model."

The blond woman shook her head, "No… no, I can't accept that. There must be something I can-"

"Look, Norma, with your family's history, the various run-ins with the law… No court's gonna let her stay with you, not as legal guardian. I'm sorry, it's over."

"No, it's not! Someone has to care for that poor, sweet girl- she'll die on her own, Alex."

"She won't be on her own. I'm sure they'll find a foster family-"

"They can't provide the love she needs, not like we can!"

Romero sighed and ran a hand over his head, already exhausted by the conversation and Norma's fervency. "Let me… let me see what I can do, look into any other options. But honestly, I don't know what good it's going to do. In the meantime, I've got to get her back."

"Give her a minute… her father was just buried." For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but the man sighed and acquiesced, taking pity like all others on the sick, sad little girl. Norman walked over to them with a sort of polite sadness, in search of his mother's comfort, and left Dylan and Emma just out of earshot.

"Hey." Dylan said to her simply, looking down at the grave. Emma kept her eyes trained on the freshly turned soil.

"Hi. Thank you for coming… I hadn't realized anyone but your mom and brother would be here." That was true. Not many people knew the Decodys; they mostly kept to themselves. It was surprising the community would come out for him, but then again, maybe it was just in good taste to support a dying orphan. Still, it was especially nice to see him. After Norman confided in her the secret of Dylan's parentage, the two had created a gentle bond. They forged a deeper friendship, one where she felt close to him like she once had with Norman and Norma, before the secrets started. But she was not sure if he felt likewise until that day.

"It's no problem." He assured her, uncertain how to respond to her despondent words of appreciation. "How ya holdin' up?"

She shrugged, "About as well as can be expected, I guess."

"That's still pretty shitty." He pointed out. She let out a short, bitter sound that tried to be a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess it is." A silence fell between them, heavy but companionable. Her eyes flicked to the side of his face for a millisecond before she spoke. "Look, Dylan, I know I have no right to ask any favor of you, but…"

"You wanna know if this was random or drug related." He stated simply, finishing the sentence when she seemed unable to do so. Her eyes watered. She turned to face him.

"Do you know?"

"I have no idea, Emma. Honestly, I don't know how it could be, unless he was laundering or transporting… does it really matter?"

"I can't live my whole life wondering if he was involved with… that." The blond boy met her stare evenly.

"Are you sure the answer is something you can handle, even if it's one you don't like?"

"I need to know, Dylan. Please."

He ran a hand over his hair. "Shit, why do you girls always come to me for answers?" he asked rhetorically and bit his lip, as though he regretted her hearing him. Emma leaned back and regarded him with a cool curiosity. She spoke as if trying to prove she was just as important and mature as he was.

"I know Bradley asked you about her dad. I know Norman was super jealous, because she looked at you like you could save her." That earned a childish glare back.

"And I know you were super jealous of Bradley, because she got to screw Norman and all you were left with was holding hands." The flash of hurt across her face brought an instant pang of regret deep within his stomach, and he quickly moved on. "Look, I'll see what I can find out, but I can't make any promises."

She nodded, "I understand. I just really appreciate this."

"And this… this has to stay between you and me, got it?"

"Yes," she agreed quickly, "absolutely."

"I'm serious, Emma. Things are tense enough. Not even my family-"

"I won't tell a soul, Dylan." Emma said seriously, eyes searching his, "Promise."

"Alright, yeah, yeah… gimme your number, I'll call if I hear anything." He reached into his pocket, but her voice stopped him.

"You already have it." At his disturbed look, she elaborated. "I put it in and called myself when I found you passed out in your truck all vomit-y. Figured maybe next time you were drunk you'd see it and call me instead of getting yourself kille-…" She stopped herself short, gaze dropping once more. He nodded to her.

"Well thanks. Nice of you to look out for me." She looked back up at him.

"We're friends, aren't we Dylan?" She asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, Em. We're friends." And Sheriff Romero stepped in to spirit her away, as his mother and brother hovered around him sadly.

End of Chapter

R_S: So that's it, just a quick set-up of their current relationship. Please leave a review to let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you hope to see... any thoughts you'd like to leave are welcome. Thanks!